The Dark Half

I dont know why I feel compelled to write this. Perhaps its our current climate in the world… the palatable vitriol between people– that “us” and “them” mentality based on the color of skin and the decision to wear a mask. I can envision people basking in some masturbatory anonymity as they pump out tweets and status updates vilifying those crouched around their digital screens waiting for responses and praise. The trolls are no longer under the bridges, they have unionized and are moving to suburbia.

Eight or Nine years old. Living in Fort Lauderdale, Fla. Apartment living with my mom. It was a hot summer and I had been spending my days at the local common area riding my bike and doing… well… Kid shit. At this time in my life I was a pretty scrappy kid… and I had a reputation for kicking the shit out of this kid named Shane. I hated Shane… when I first moved to the apartment complex he was the first kid that ever blatantly came at me as a bully. It took one time of him messing with me and I beat him so bad that he ended up puking on himself laying on the ground. It probably didn’t help that I kept sitting on him and jumping up on down. But that’s what I did. Every couple weeks…Shane and I would go at it…. I always coming out the victor. Without knowing…like some bad movie plot… I had become the bully that I despised. But , hell…no one liked Shane….so I didn’t feel that bad about it and it kept the other kids from messing with me. Everyone had brothers and sisters… older and younger… so there was always someone watching you… what you were doing. Being an only child…I had to be a very prickly fish in a sea of sharks. That being said, I was not the only lone wolf in the complex.

Lawrence…or Larry as he was called was this pudgy kid that, unfortunately, had a birth defect on his left hand that made it look more like a claw. if memory serves he must of been my senior by a couple years…or at least he looked older. That being so, it didn’t do anything for his personality. But what sticks in my head was his smell, Larry had that odor of urine and sweat that people with too many cats in an enclosed space acquire. These things combined made Larry the default kid to harass for the apartment complex.

I wont lie… I would follow Larry around with the other kids..making fun of his hand…being a bully. It would always get to the point that Larry would retreat home shouting expletives as he skulked away—- just far enough that he could dart away if anyone chased him. The older kids were always the ones who started in on him– chastising the weakest in the pack—reinforcing the hierarchy.

One hot summer day I found myself roaming the complex with Eric. Eric was basically my only friend and that was because we both lived in the same building. We were riding bikes from the front of the complex to the back-with the obligatory pass by the pool and the tennis courts to see what every other kid was up to. As we turned the corner we came upon Larry stomping down the path. PISS-MERCHANT!!!! I will never forget those words. Eric shouting them the oncoming Lawrence who returned a volley of cuss words and insults. As we shot by him one of his legs shot out striking the back of my bikes tire. The force of the blow sending me topsy-turvy into a skid. I recovered before falling to the ground but that rush of adrenaline had initiated my fight or fight response–and as you’ve read above I wasn’t really living my best “flight” life at the time. So I spun around with nothing but bad intent. “Fucking dickhanded cat fucker”— Yeah.. I was a foul mouthed kid…and I was tough…. and I had already beat up Shane this week and not I was gonna kick the shit out of that fat ass Larry.

Larry wasn’t a fast on his feet– he was pretty much a coconut in crocs. His attempts to get away just exhausted what energy he did have and had me peddling my “space invaders” bike down apartment building hallways to cut him off. Eric wasn’t far behind, feeding off the hunt. We were now wolves chasing down our pray. We caught up with Larry about 50 yards from the front of his building. Building AA ( assholes anonymous we called it). I peddled past him and then reversed my stroke to lock up the rear wheel and skid to a stop. I dropped the bike and stood there ready. Instead of turning and running–Larry kept on trucking. I think he was hoping his Mom would see the incident about to happen and shout from the balcony above saving him. But–no mom came to his rescue.

I hit Larry square in the ear… I was aiming for his face–but I did not account for his approaching momentum–(something I learned later in life)–and I missed that pudgy piss smelling gob and landed in that mass of oily hair and cartridge. He turned as my fist returned to my side–I could see the tears in his eyes already welling up– “FUCKER….YOU FUCKER”– Larry didn’t have much articulation of the word. But I guess my fist had struck home… sometimes those sensitive places hurt more than just getting punched directly in the face. ” FUCK YOU—I’M GONNA KILL YOU”…. Continued use of the word did not make it any more frightening –but the “kill you” did have me a little pissed off.

— Thats when it all changed—

Larry turned around…trying not to visibly show he was crying. Then he moved to the side where a couple cars were parked—returning with a beer bottle in hand. I was certain that he was going to throw it at me as was the custom in the complex. Sticks, rocks, fruit, soda cans— all of it was fair game to be thrown. You never really aimed for the person but you wanted to let them know you could if you wanted to. I think the legal term is “brandishing”. This wasn’t Larry’s plan– with a quick down stroke from his dick hand he tried to break the end of the bottle and use it as a weapon. It didn’t go as planned.

The bottle shattered in his hand–driving shards of glass inward and cutting his fingers. The blood flowed crimson down his fat wrists and the look on his face was pure mortification.

He let out a howl that was somewhere between a distressed cat and a wailing widow. “YOU STUPID FAT FUCK! ahhhhh hahahahh… ” was the verbal consensus Eric and I came to. You would think this would be the end of the confrontation. We were kids… this was an emergency… playtime is over. But it wasn’t– this is the day I realized that part of me harbors an darkness. A insufferable character flaw that I’ve kept in check for the majority of my life.

Larry’s face turned to panic– and now his fight or flight response had definitely grown into wings. What was left of the bottle dropped to the ground and shattered. His only concern was making back to AA. There was literal blood in the water–and the sharks were near. To this day I regret what I did next…not only as a person–but as a human being. As Larry moved to run home…I stood in front of him–blocking his route. The look in his eye was that of defeat and horror. This wasn’t how the game was played…this isn’t was kids do. He advanced and I would block… the blood now running down his arm in a thick stream of escaping vitae. I don’t know what possessed me to keep him there… maybe it was I felt if he was going to go to the extent of using a bottle as a weapon that I was going to make him pay for it. Eric said nothing–his mouth agape. I dont know if the seriousness of what was happening hit him… earlier he and I both were playing with star wars toys—and now his friend is holding a mutilated cripple hostage— odd day.

5 minutes. I believe that is how long I made that poor kid wait… going as much as holding the apartment complex door shut from the inside so he couldn’t come in. Him pleading with me to let him in–his hand now just a red glob of drying blood. Eric rode off–this had gone on too long.

I was making Larry serve a penance– or that is what I told myself. The reality of it was that deep dark part of me… the hunter killer… the latent sadist… was feeding from a buffet of pain and anguish. Larry was under my control… and he shouldn’t of fucked with me…this is what he got. Finally, as he started blubbering… tears mixing with snot and sweat– I let him in. That and I heard the talk of adults coming down the hall….. that would of stopped it anyways… the adults always ruining things. Larry slid through the door… cradling his hand as he went– the smell of sweaty cat piss Larry going with him. I was riding high… Eric would tell the other kids what happened. Gossip and rumors would abound. My young mind could not wrap around the concept of what I just did. I was guiltless— until I felt the weight settle it….the reality of what I had done.

As I laid in bed I expected the door bell to ring… for a police officer and a distraught Larry Mom to be there. My mother coming into my room to pull me from my bed with disgust. But nothing happened. Days passed. Nothing. Not to say there wasn’t fallout– Eric didn’t want to hang out for a while. We didnt see Larry for a long time– and when we did he veered far off course from ours. The kids at the common area looked at me different for a long time… but a few months later I moved back north and the deed was lost to playground myth.

That moment has lived with me for over 35 years. And I think of what it has done to my character. I wonder what ever happened to Larry… what path his life took. I still feel that darkness inside from time to time… I think many of us do… we push it down with booze, sex, video games, etc. I have been in many fights since… been the victor and the loser on both sides. That feeling you get in the heat of it… the adrenaline… that lizard brain reasoning. I just wanted to get this stuff down… wanted to tell Larry I was sorry…wanted him to know I carry the guilt of what I did to him and that I’ve tried to be a better man that the boy he feared. I guess that is all we can do..is attempt to do better…to be the light to our dark halves.